"If my Flaminius ever wou'd reward / My constant ardor, with an equal flame; / Engag'd by such endearing decencies, / As make the lamp of love in Herod's breast / To burn so bright, and never to consume."

"As fire, by nature, climbs direct, and bright, / And beams, in spotless rays, a shining light; / But if some gross obstruction stops its way, / Smokes in low curls, and scents the sullied day: / So love, itself, untainted, and refin'd, / Borrows a tincture, from the colour'd mind."

"All these Pleasures of his Breast should die, / The Beams of Science from his Soul retire / And fade, extinguish'd by a nobler Fire, / As kindled Wood, howe'er its Flames may rise, / When the bright Sun appears, in Embers dies."

"With inward eyes, and silent as the grave, / They stand collecting every beam of thought, / Till their hearts kindle with Divine delight; / For all their thoughts, like angels seen of old / In Israel's dream, come from, and go to, heaven."